Salvation
by whitetiger91
Summary: Set during the First Wizarding World, this ficlet highlights the thoughts of Mrs Crabbe as she prayers for her husband's safety. Written for the Diagon Alley II Sacred Stones Competition, round two.


**Salvation**

**_A/N: This ficlet was written for the Diagon Alley II Sacred Stones Competition, round two. My prompt for this round was salvation, and the task was to write a ficlet between 1000-1500 words set during the First Wizarding War. _**

**_I really hope you like this story (which probably would have more detail and a stronger ending as I am still learning to contain my writing in word limits). I may or may not add it to my Christmas competition story, A Very Crabbey Christmas, and create a series of moments between the Crabbe family (and possibly the Goyles). I also took the liberty of naming the Crabbes as I could not find their first names anywhere._**

**_As usual, I do not own anything you recognise from the world of Harry Potter and will not profit financially from this fic._**

**_Prompt: salvation_**

**_Word count: 1499 words_**

Rain glistened against the glass windows as thick droplets made their way down the cold surface. Outside, the streetlamps were surrounded by a blurry halo as their weak light tried to penetrate the cold night air.

Giselda paced back and forth across her living room, ignoring the ominous ticking of the old clock that was perched precariously on top of a bare wooden table. Her slippers wore a path into the motley-green carpet as she bounced a wailing bundle in her thick arms.

"Hush my Vinny, hush my darling," she cooed distractedly, hoping that he would soon settle.

Almost as though he sensed her anxiety, the infant finally gave a loud burp and immediately ceased his crying- blinking his brown eyes owlishly as they drifted closed.

Not a moment later, Giselda heard the front door fly open and heavy footsteps approached her.

"You're late," she didn't look at her husband as she placed Vincent into the small cot by the torn longue.

Abel grunted and brushed past her, intent on reaching his goal. Giselda could hear him shuffling around in the kitchen, riffling through the draws and slamming the fridge door closed. It was a few minutes before his large figure stumbled back into the room, crossing the metre to the couch and cracking open a grimy bottle of fire whiskey.

Giselda watched as he put the tip of the bottle to his mouth and took an unnecessarily large gulp of the amber liquid. He swished it around in his mouth, evidently savouring the taste. He must have felt her light brown gaze upon him as he finally turned his own dark eyes towards her.

"I told you, I had a meeting with _him_. You know better than to question how long I am there."

"Yes, but you could've at least owled me, I was getting wor-"

"-but nothing. He required my presence to discuss tomorrow night's plan," he raised the bottle to his lips again, looking towards the empty fire place.

Giselda twisted her hands together as she waged a battle in her mind over whether or not to proceed with the discussion. Mustering up as much courage as she could, she hesitantly asked him the question that had parted her lips so often that week.

"Yes, I just, I- I want to know why you have to be in that mission. Surely the Dark Lord would want you elsewhere?"

Abel continued staring at the fire place; if it weren't for the way she saw his thin lips moving, she would've missed his response.

"This is my chance to prove myself. You know he was not happy when we stuffed up the Bones' murder," Giselda shuddered at his words, the scars etched into her husband's back still fresh on her mind, "and I am lucky that he wants me on this job. I will succeed, and he will see that I am no fool. Perhaps when we finish I will be allowed to join the Longbottom plan, and more importantly, become the next Malfoy."

"But I don't want you to be like Lucius, I would much prefer that you-"

"It is not up to you to prefer anything. Better yet, it's high time that you concentrate on improving yourself- you are no Narcissa."

Abel may as well have slapped her in the face with that insult. He knew of her insecurities about the way she compared herself to the other pureblood women in their social circle. She felt her cheeks redden in embarrassment as she watched him trail his eyes up and down her full figure, lingering on the mop of brown hair that she had failed to curl.

He emptied the bottle and slammed it onto the coffee table; it was littered with scraps of parchment and circular stains from the cracked coffee mugs they used – although he worked at the Ministry, with a new baby, the couple could not afford luxuries such as coasters. She was thankful that at least the Malfoy woman didn't dare visit their home to witness her inability to keep a clean house.

Vincent stirred in his cot, allowing Giselda to momentarily escape Abel's scrutiny as she rocked the boy gently. Waiting until her courage resurfaced, she tried reasoning again.

"I know that you are a great wizard, and I am thankful that you are trying to provide for us," she began slowly, watching as he nodded to himself, "but what if you were to be killed? You haven't given me the details, but what about Vinnie? What will become of him if he is left without a father?"

Abel didn't immediately reply. His own cheeks burned as he looked into her eyes. Finally, in a deathly quiet voice, he addressed her, "then Vincent can tell everyone that his father died a hero. The little sod should be proud of what we have achieved," his voice grew steadily louder, causing her to flinch as he stood up, "and if he or you do not like it, you can both leave this house immediately!"

Giselda quickly moved backwards as he placed his face directly in front of hers.

"I will be going tomorrow night and that is final!" he spat at her, moving through to the kitchen to grab another fire whiskey.

She stood, trembling slightly, as the noise disturbed Vincent, causing the baby to wave his chubby little hands in the air. She started to rock the boy again, knowing that there was nothing else she could try to change her husband's mind.

Once again, Giselda found herself pacing the living room floor as the clock ticked its way past midnight. As he had promised, Abel had left earlier that night to meet up with Marcus Goyle and a few other Death Eaters, leaving her behind to look after Vincent. Her heart still thrummed wildly in her chest in fear of his safety- the only difference to the previous night's worry was the fact that Vincent was now sleeping peacefully in his cot.

Not able to calm her nerves, she sunk onto the longue and placed her hands flat together. She had once observed the muggle neighbours down the street in a similar position, with their heads hung and knees bent. She had learnt that they had been praying to some deity to keep them safe, and had scoffed at their weakness. Now, however, some small part of her admitted that the filthy beings may have had the right idea.

Closing her eyes, she sent her thoughts to all higher powers who she thought would listen. She prayed that her husband would be safe- even if it meant that the mission was not successful. Thinking of her untidy dwellings and voluptuous build, she also promised that she would be a better wife and home-maker.

As she finished up, the wireless radio buzzed with static, signalling the incoming news report.

Her eyes flew open and her heart landed in her mouth as a crackly voice penetrated the room, "that's another two Aurors down now. Officials have made their way to the scene, arresting one Death Eater on site. It will be some time before the other two masked bodies are identified—"

Giselda switched the set off, feeling a weight drop into the pit of her stomach. Her body felt heavier and she moved her lips numbly, repeating in her mind what she had feared- 'he's gone. It's over.'

Hours passed by as Giselda sat in a heap upon the lounge. She didn't shed any tears as she continuously tried to process the news. The smallest, somewhat logical part of her brain urged her to make plans, but still she sat, unmoving.

It was not until the front door un-expectantly burst open that she was eventually able to snap out of her stupor. Leaping up, she crossed to shield Vincent, assuming that the Aurors may have come to search the house.

A single, cloaked figure stood in the doorway, shaking off rain droplets onto the floor.

She stood blinking stupidly, gaping at the man before her. It wasn't until he made to enter the kitchen that she finally threw herself at him, refusing to let go as she wrapped her arms around his bulging waist.

"I thought you were-"

Abel pushed her off, grunting. He continued into the kitchen to find some food, before offering an explanation as he opened the fridge, "I got delayed, didn't I? Ruddy bloke 'forgot' about the apparition charms around the place! Cost us both an hour to get there by which time they arrested Avery..."

She hastened to get him a fire-whiskey as he furiously dug into a tough bit of steak.

Abel didn't offer any more conversation about his adventures that night, finishing his meal in silence as she made sure to refill his glass occasionally.

All Giselda could think for the remainder of the night was that she would make sure that she was a better wife as thanks for his salvation.


End file.
